Blood
by planet p
Summary: When he wants to be real, she doesn’t want to be; fairly OOC. Chloe/Nicholas


There's blood on his hands again; this time, it cold, old, from where she'd clutched his hands as though for dear life, and her fingernails had dug in.

It's not the sort of thing she notices, or perhaps she does, and acts like she doesn't, like it doesn't mean a thing: pain, to an unfeeling being.

He knows that in some way, in many ways, that that is what she considers him as; unfeeling. But he does feel… so much. Too much, he often thinks; that he doesn't know what to do with it, where to… put it. He _doesn't_ want it! If it could just go away, if he could just stop feeling it… but maybe that's the whole reason for it: we hurt, but we move with the hurt, not around it. (Can't deny it; gotta let it be real.)

_To me, you are real_, he wants to tell Chloe: but what a silly notion, such silliness.

He occupies himself with washing the blood from his hands, instead (and trying not to flinch); if Chloe were to come in, she would see, and he doesn't think he wants that.

He can hear her from the other room, reciting Beatrix Potter by heart. It isn't fair; it makes him think of children: he doesn't _want_ to think about children – she _hates_ him! Or maybe, he does want to think about children, and maybe, he wishes – how _awfully_ daft – that Chloe didn't hate just as much as she did… just not quite as much.

_Children!_ he chides himself. _Not in this lifetime._ (What a thought!) _We're not exactly… well, to be bluntly honest… we're somewhat on a spaceship… and we're somewhat stuck!_

_Just imagine, for a moment, how a child would tolerate that: not at all, in other words! The adults are finding it hard enough. And, you, you're thinking about children! Get over yourself!_

_This is bloody real, Nicholas!_

He wants to reply back that children are real, too, but what good would that do; he's only arguing with himself – and it's laughable, and horrible, and inexcusable!

He winces, but there is no more blood – he can turn the tap off – and he notices, now, that Chloe's recital has stopped. He reaches for the tap, and there she is, standing behind him.

It's bloody scary how she can sometimes sneak up on a person, he thinks, but it's only because that way he isn't alone, that way, he's part of more than just one, and he's not freaking out, or cussing at her sudden appearance.

"Feeling alright?" she asks, as though she thinks he mayn't be, as though, she thinks he thinks she may care. (Maybe she wants to pretend that she does, too, today.)

"Fine," he replies, and he's halfway to the door by that point; she's behind him, following. _There's another creepy thing_, he thinks, and feels like slapping himself. As if she'd ever do anything!

_But you are the one she blames for her father's death; for stranding us all on this… this time-forsaken ship! _his mind reminds, antagonistically.

He ignores it. If she feels nothing for him, and she can't help it (it helps her, to know, to feel that she feels _nothing_), then he can't help it that he feels so much for her. It's pathetic, and _stupid_ in what he's sure is the worst way possible, but why should he have to help his feelings! Why can't he be like everyone else, or just… just what _he_ is!

He's a person and he has feelings!

And, by goodness, why not!

_Because they hurt; they always hurt in the end, Nicholas, we both know that, all too well._

He blocks out the internal voice and turns to Chloe. All he wants is to hold her.

She doesn't object. (Why would she; if she hurts him now, it'll hurt less than if she does it later. She can wait.)

She lets him hold her; thoughts of her victory holding her in place, holding her safely, warmly (coldly) out of his reach, entangled in his arms.

She thinks it'd be too much – much too obvious – to let the smile that's pushing itself onto her face slide into place, but she can't _really_ hold it back: it comes anyway.

If he thinks it means something… that something has changed, she's only too happy to oblige.

Her smile warms her whole face; blood stands out happily red beneath her cheeks.

* * *

_I don't own _SGU_. Thanks for reading._


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